


Music Swims Back to Me

by brocanteur



Series: To Bedlam and Part Way Back [2]
Category: Skins, Skins (UK)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon, Drug Use, F/F, Hate Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-05
Updated: 2011-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-26 23:22:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brocanteur/pseuds/brocanteur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This is how these things start: with loads of MDMA and vodka and dancing and just total, total off your tits behaviour."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Music Swims Back to Me

**Author's Note:**

> Titles and opening quotes stolen from Anne Sexton.

_"Wait Mister. Which way is home? They turned the light out and the dark is moving in the corner."_

 

\-----

 

This is how these things start: with loads of MDMA and vodka and dancing and just total, total off your tits behaviour.  
   
None of it will lead to any fucking good. Not that it matters, not that it  makes a difference where the fuck it goes.  
   
\-----  
   
Katie goes out alone now, despite Emily's numerous invitations --and it burns, that it's _Emily_ who has invitations to make, even if they're just for outings with Naomi.  
  
Instead, Katie goes where no one knows her, not because she's up for fucking strangers--she's got some standards, after all, and she's only ever had sex with proper boyfriends--but because sometimes she just needs to be looked  at. Not the way she's been looked at lately--like she's been fucked over, like she's damaged and pitiful. She just wants to be _wanted_ again.  
   
And because she's made an effort to go to a club that's out of the way she's shocked to see her, there in the middle of a swaying mass. (Always in the middle of everything.)  
   
Effy Stonem is oblivious; she is completely fucking unaware. As she raises her arms above her head and dances with the kind of abandon Katie wishes she didn't envy, Effy is the definition of untouchable.  
   
And she's alone, too. Katie knows because she's been watching, been on the lookout for Freddie and Cook and even JJ, because fuck knows who Effy's willing to shag next. (Katie doesn't even flinch at the stray memory of Effy's fingers inside her, because that was nothing, doesn't count and isn't worth Katie's time and attention.)  
   
Someone presses a bottle into Katie's hand and when she looks up some tall, blank-faced bloke stares back at her like he's waiting for something monumental to happen. "Yeah, all right," she says and nods, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes as she brings the bottle to her mouth and takes several long swallows. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and murmurs, "Cheers." When he starts to say something, she pretends she can't hear him and clutches the bottle to her chest as she disappears back into the crowd.  
   
It was hot to begin with, but now the alcohol--she takes another drink and winces at the burn--makes Katie feel like she's on fire. She wishes she could peel off every layer of clothing she's got on, but really there's just the one and she's not that fucked up. Not yet.  
   
As Katie moves closer to Effy (and it's not like she's noticed she's done it, and won't notice, not until they're pressed up against each other, dancing together like they don't care about anything, like nothing's happened--rocks, boyfriends, drunken fucking), another bloke randomly gives her some MDMA and, Christ, it was just what she'd been waiting for.  
   
She takes it straightaway, complements it with another swig of vodka, and tries to imagine all the reactions exploding in her body. She's rubbish at science but she's always liked the idea of things colliding, particles or atoms--smashing into each other to make something new. Cause and effect. _You bang into me and I'll bang into you._  
  
Good shit, she thinks, as a rush of chemicals flood her bloodstream and she starts bouncing with renewed energy. Fuck, she can't even feel it, the dancing, it feels like nothing--like her feet aren't even touching ground.  
  
Another few minutes of this--of pure, frenetic movement, dancing that isn't more than grinding into whoever happens to be next to her, of jumping and feeling beads of sweat roll down the back of her neck and along her spine, and her hair sticking to the sides of her face because really she's sweating everywhere (but she doesn't fucking care, it's glorious)--and Katie finds her unintended target.  
   
It's not a collision--they see each other first, casual glances that turn into challenging stares. And then, Katie doesn't even know how, they've made their way to one another.  
   
"You are fucked up," Effy says breathlessly, because she won't stop dancing, not for a second. (Katie won't admit there's a certain loose-limbed grace to her movements, or that the slutty dress she's wearing looks good—if _filthy whore with flat tits_ is what she's aiming for.) Katie doesn't hear the first time around--shakes her head almost angrily, because she hates that she's even letting Effy speak to her, let alone stand this close. Let alone touch her, dance with her.  
   
When Effy repeats herself, Katie starts to shake her head again, but then thinks, fuck it, "Yeah," and passes the rest of the MDMA to Effy, who doesn't look anywhere near fucked up enough, not for this kind of contact. Katie stares at her, at her closed off face and her incongruous smile, and Katie's not even trying to be nasty, not really, but, "I don't fucking know how you can, like, stand being yourself for even one second."  
   
Effy replies, "Neither do I." She doesn't look bothered by Katie's words, just takes the MDMA, gingerly places the tab on her tongue and waggles it at Katie suggestively.  
   
"You're such a cunt," Katie says, her shoulders shaking with inexplicable laughter.  
   
"Yeah," Effy says, coming closer, wrapping an arm around Katie's waist, "I am."  
   
When they find a darkened corner--and it's not hard, in a place like this, where no one knows them or seems to care that two girls are pressed against each other, ready to... _whatever_ \--Katie thinks how this _thing_ is nothing like what Emily has with Naomi. It's a relief, to think of it that way, because Emily _loves_ Naomi. She's watched them and tried to figure it out, make sense of it. Like, how could Emily--who is stupid about _a lot_ of things, but generally clever--love a cunty bitch like Naomi. And, okay, Naomi is _pretty--_ even though she puts absolutely no effort into her appearance and dresses like a homeless person--but she's also pretty awful and fucking sarcastic like ninety percent of the time, and if she rolls her eyes one more time, they'll stick to the back of her head permanently. The thought makes Katie giggle and Effy, who has her pinned to a wall, gives her a quizzical look.  
   
"I'm not gay," Katie says bluntly, noting Effy's detached amusement with a snort. "It's true, yeah? I don't even know what I'm doing here, or why I keep running into you. Shouldn't you, like, be off fucking Freddie? Isn't that why you--?" She stops, closes her eyes for a moment, then unscrews the cap on the bottle of vodka and takes another drink. "Don't answer that," she says hoarsely.  
   
Effy shakes her head. "Wasn't going to," she replies, before closing the distance between them--her mouth is sweet, and she kisses like she wants to forget. It's an open, shameless kiss that dampens Katie’s knickers. It's the only kind of kiss, Katie thinks hazily, that will do.  
   
Still, it's startling when Effy reaches for the hem of Katie's skirt, and Katie jerks back, frowning. "What the fuck? Not _here_."  
   
"No one can see us." When Effy smiles, Katie thinks it looks like it's physically hurting her to do so. "But, you'd go somewhere...?"  
   
Quickly--and she doesn't know what Effy means, not really, but she's fried, and she won't agree to anything Effy proposes because there's the matter of _nine fucking stitches_ \--Katie says, "We're not going anywhere."  
   
"What, I--" Effy shakes her head and manages to look confused for all of two seconds before she laughs, and it's a little mean. "I meant the toilets, not..." She doesn't say anymore, just laughs again, and Katie hates that it stings even a little.  
   
" _Whatever."_ And she's high, not stupid. She knows she pouting, knows she's being a baby about the whole thing, immediately feels in the pit of her stomach how wrong this is, how before--before the woods, before the Love Ball--she never would've put up with this kind of shit. (And how, _how_ , did it all go so wrong, so quickly?) "Just forget it, okay? Fucking forget--"  
   
It shouldn't surprise Katie, that Effy does things like push her up against walls, kiss her stupid (it's how it feels, too, like she loses a little bit of herself with every hungry swipe of Effy's tongue), but it does, and she gasps maybe a little too loudly, the sound thankfully swallowed up by Effy's mouth.  
   
This is only the second time they've done this. (And, fucking hell, thinking of it that way makes it seem like she's considering doing it a third and she's not, she's just _not_ , because apart from being a _girl,_ Effy Stonem tried to fucking _kill_ her, and this is not the sort of thing one does with people one hates. At least not, like, regularly.) So maybe it should be more awkward, considering how fucked up they both are (for instance, Katie finds herself thinking Effy's eyes are luminous _,_ even in the dark; and that is a proper sign she's barely functioning that isn't something she'd be thinking were she sober), and that the first time they did it is now, at least for Katie, a blur. The gist of it, she remembers; when she'd woken up the next morning, she'd remembered enough to be well sick about it. Emily'd taken one look at her, asked if she was all right, and it was all Katie could manage before running to the toilet and vomiting.  
   
“I don't like you,” Katie says, her hand on the space between Effy's shoulder blades. They're so close together now, that it takes no effort at all for Effy to slide her thigh between Katie's legs. “Just so we're clear.” It's a shame she's slurring. It's all a shame, really.  
   
Effy smiles, brushing her mouth against Katie's slowly, and it doesn't feel like a kiss so much as an intimation of one. “Why would I think otherwise, Katie?” She touches Katie's hair, right where she styled it to cover her scar.  
   
“Fucking--” Katie swats Effy's hand away angrily, even though she knows her hair must be all fucked up anyway; she can feel her fringe matted to her face, which feels unnaturally hot now. “Don't do that.”  
  
“All right,” Effy replies, and she sounds bored as she drops her arms and takes a step away.  
   
It wasn't what Katie had meant, and she hates herself for tightening her hold on Effy's back, for sounding nearly desperate when she asks, “You're going?”  
   
Effy shrugs. “What do you want, Katie?”  
   
_Not you_ , Katie thinks, and then repeats it to herself a few times, lets the thought reverberate and settle until it seems right. Instead of voicing it, she drinks more vodka, puts the bottle on the ground and replies, gazing over Effy's shoulder, “Look, just bloody kiss me again, okay?”  
   
She's shaken when, instead, Effy tips her chin back, looks her squarely in the eye, and murmurs languidly, “It's your turn.”  
   
Startled, Katie shakes her head. “I-- What?”  
   
“Take what you want,” Effy answers, her tone mild. “Do you even know what that is?”  
   
“No.” Katie replies automatically, flinching as soon as the word leaves her mouth, because she sounds as fucked up and confused as she feels. “Don't be fucking stupid, just--”  
   
Effy rolls her eyes, starts to turn away as she says, “See you, then.”  
   
The searing hatred that blooms in her chest is enough to jolt Katie into action. “God,” she hisses, grabbing Effy's arm, pulling her back with a tug, “why do you have to be such a fucking cunt all the time?”  
   
Katie’s never bothered hiding her anger so when she kisses Effy it's with a hard mouth and sharp teeth that scrape across the bow of Effy's upper lip. She licks Effy's lips apart, drives her tongue inside, and when Effy groans in surprise, Katie pulls back, takes a shuddering breath. Moves in for another kiss, and this time it's deep and slow.  
   
“Good,” Effy whispers, shaky. She takes one of Katie's hands and guides it to her thigh. “Come on, Katie. Aren't you curious?”  
   
Part of Katie—and maybe it's the tiny bit of her that's halfway sober--wants to tell Effy to fuck off, wants to walk away and never think of what she's done. The other wants to _crush_ Effy, to turn her to jelly with the palm of her hand. She's never done it, fucked a girl--of course, she hasn't--but how hard could it be, if Emily and Naomi are up to it?  
   
She doesn't answer Effy's question—not with words anyway—just switches their positions so that it's Effy who's pressed against the wall, with Katie standing between her thighs, her fingers trembling as she reaches for the bottom of Effy's dress. Effy helps her, smiling as she hikes the hem up, waiting for Katie to make a move.  
   
What's surprising at first, when Katie buries her face against the side of Effy's neck, is how little is really between them. Katie's tentative at first; she can't help it. It's new--not altogether unfamiliar, because Katie's pretty good at doing it to herself, but strange nonetheless. She can feel how hot Effy is, through her knickers, how slippery wet.  
   
“Christ, you really want this,” she murmurs.  
   
“Try not to let it bother you, Katie,” Effy responds, canting her hips to meet Katie's hand, making a sound of encouragement. Without warning, she reaches underneath Katie's skirt, straight to her cunt. “We're in the same state, you and I.”  
   
Katie jerks at the contact, bites back a whimper before responding, “We're fucked up.” She's sure she means the drugs.  
   
“Yeah,” Effy says hoarsely, when Katie finally begins to work through her knickers. “We are.”  
   
Katie swallows hard, sinking her teeth into Effy's shoulder, because she doesn't want to say anything else. Doesn't want to make a sound. Just sways into Effy as Effy rubs absently over her tights. It's distracting, but not enough for Katie to stop her fingers from slipping beneath the elastic of Effy's knickers. And, yeah, it's different touching someone else; the angle is wrong, and it's not like she can feel what she's doing, what feels good, but Katie is determined. When she slides one finger inside and Effy's breath hitches, Katie smiles to herself and strokes firmly, slowly.  
   
“ _Fuck,”_ Effy moans, tipping her head back against the wall. “Yes, keep...” Her words trail off, but Katie gets her meaning well enough, begins to suck on Effy's shoulder, wanting to leave deep, dark bruises. Wanting Effy to see them in the morning, without being sure why.  
   
The music is loud, everything is loud, and whatever sounds they make should be drowned out, but Effy's mouth is so close to Katie's ear, she can hear every exhaled whimper, every strained moan. Effy's hand is barely moving now, but the pressure is enough to remind Katie she's there, waiting. Katie grinds down, starts tonguing the marks she's left on Effy's shoulder even as she thinks to slip a second finger into Effy, who hisses her approval.  
   
It's...too much, because Katie remembers she doesn't want Effy's fucking approval, doesn't want to give her what she wants. And so she whispers, “Bitch” in Effy's ear and starts fucking her proper, hard, with no let-up.  
   
Effy lets out a high-pitched sound and Katie doesn't know whether it's because she's done something right, or because she hasn't. She doesn't really care, keeps doing it again and again even when her wrist starts hurting from the strain of it.  
   
When Effy comes, she does so gulping air, clutching Katie's waist like she'll collapse if she doesn't. Katie feels smug, and dizzy.  
   
It takes a bit for Effy to catch her breath, but then she laughs, kisses Katie sloppily, tears at her tights and fucks her. Just like that, her fingers slipping over Katie's clit not more than a few times before Katie's sobbing, so close to her orgasm that all it takes is Effy whispering hotly in her ear, “Go on and do it,” and she's doubling over, biting her lip to keep from crying out.  
   
Sweat starts to sting her eyes, and she blinks rapidly, vaguely aware that she's still pressed up against Effy, and that Effy's lavishing kisses on the side of her neck. Katie stumbles backward, knows immediately it was a mistake, because her head's swimming and her vision's blurred. She shoots an arm out for purchase, and is dismayed when Effy's the one she grabs hold of.  
   
“I need to go home,” she says, wishing she didn't sound so small.  
   
“It's early yet,” Effy replies.  
   
“I don't fucking care.”  
   
“All right,” Effy says. “We can share a taxi.”  
   
It's childish, but all Katie can think to say is, “I don't want to share anything with you.” She's feels like she's going to cry, or vomit. Both, probably.  
   
“Don't be a fucking idiot.” There's no venom behind Effy's words, just a bit of weariness. Katie hates her. “It'll be cheaper.”  
   
  
  
   
They don't speak.  
   
Katie keeps her forehead pressed against the window, her eyes closed as she wills her stomach to keep from lurching in her body. Once, Effy clears her throat and Katie's gaze drags to her. They exchange a look before Katie twists away, her body curling into itself.  
   
The driver stops at Katie's house first, and she stumbles out without another glance in Effy's direction.  
   
It's when Effy calls out, “Call me” and the taxi speeds away that Katie falls to her knees at the side of the porch and expels every single drug and swig of vodka she took that night.  
   
Somehow she makes her way upstairs, to her bedroom. She's surprised to see Emily there; so often now she isn't.  
   
“What's happened to you?” Emily asks, and Katie just shakes her head and collapses onto her bed. “Katie?”  
   
“Leave me alone.” She closes her eyes, hopes she can just pass out soon, but then Emily's hand is cool against her forehead and Katie can barely manage to keep from crying. “Fuck off, Emily,” she says, but her tone isn't nearly as bitchy as she wanted it to be. Her voice is rough, like she's choking on something.  
   
“Was it something you took?” Emily asks, and the concern in her voice makes Katie wish they could go back a year, before they started college and everything was as it should've been.  
   
“Yeah,” Katie replies. “Probably.”  
   
Emily's thumb brushes across her cheek, and Katie feels unexpected tears move with it. “Why're you crying?”  
   
Katie shrugs, rubs at her eyes, and turns her face into the pillow. “I didn't know I was,” she murmurs, unsure of whether Emily can hear.  
   
“Scoot over.”  
  
Katie does, rolling her eyes at Emily's mothering tone.  
   
She falls asleep with her sister beside her, whispering words of comfort that aren't.  
  
  



End file.
